Princess Elizabeth's Spy(28)

“About eight months ago, Mademoiselle. I was able to get out of Paris before France fell, Merci Dieu! I’m cousin to Cook’s husband—that’s how I was able to secure this position.”

“Merci Dieu, indeed,” Maggie said.

“Because of rationing, one egg—a real one, not the powdered sort—will be served to each castle resident only on Sundays,” Audrey told her. “By order of the King. He, and the Queen, and the Princesses, all adhere to the same rules.”

“Really,” Maggie said, thinking of the vast quantities of rationed food Mr. Churchill would put away on a daily, let alone weekly, basis. Still, no one on his staff begrudged him his extra meat and eggs and cream.

“Chance of rain today, Mademoiselle,” Audrey warned as she finished the last of the curtains. “Oh, and before I forget, Miss Crawford would like to see you in the Princesses’ nursery at nine. It’s Saturday, I know, but she insisted.”

Maggie’s eyes went to the small clock on the mantel. “That’s in half an hour! Oh, dear!”

Audrey left. As she dressed, Maggie turned on the wireless for the news. The BBC was issuing reports about Coventry, which had been demolished. “The German Luftwaffe has bombed Coventry in a massive raid which lasted more than ten hours and left much of the city devastated.

“Relays of enemy aircraft dropped bombs indiscriminately. One of the many buildings hit included the fourteenth-century cathedral, which was all but destroyed. Initial reports suggest the number of casualties is about one thousand. Intensive antiaircraft fire kept the raiders at a great height, from which accurate bombing was impossible.

“According to one report, some five hundred enemy aircraft took part in the raid. Wave upon wave of bombers scattered their lethal payloads over the city. The night sky, already lit by a brilliant moon, was further illuminated by flares and incendiary bombs.

“The German High Command has issued a communiqué describing the attack on Coventry as a reprisal for the British attack on Munich—the birthplace of the Nazi party. The German Official News Agency described the raid on Coventry as ‘the most severe in the whole history of the war.’

“Home Secretary Herbert Morrison was on the scene within hours of the all-clear. He met the mayor and other local officials and afterward paid tribute to the work of the National Service units of the city, who had ‘stood up to their duty magnificently.’ ”

Horrible, Maggie thought. Horrible, terrible, awful, tragic … And yet, we’re supposed to keep buggering on.


On time but out of breath, Maggie made it back to the nursery—thanks to the maps Gregory had drawn out for her and with glances out windows to orient herself.

Miss Crawford was already there on the long damask-covered sofa. She was a young woman with a largish nose, thin lips, and dark-brown hair set in neat rolls. “Please sit down, Miss Hope,” she said with a Scottish lilt, indicating a pink brocade chair. She did not look pleased.

“Did you hear about Coventry, Miss Crawford?” Maggie asked, still struggling to breathe from the long walk and trying to come to terms with the magnitude of the attack.

“Yes, Miss Hope,” Miss Crawford replied. “However, I’ve made it my policy that the war stops outside the nursery door. I’d appreciate it if you’d adhere to it. And please call me Crawfie—everyone does.”

“Of course.”

Maggie looked down at the schedule on the table.



“The Princesses are riding right now?” Maggie asked, feeling a sudden stab of fear over their safety. “Who’s with them?”

“The Princesses have been riding for years, Miss Hope. They are quite accomplished horsewomen.”

“Of course,” Maggie said, but she wondered if this was perhaps a lapse in judgment.

“They’re usually accompanied by one or more of the Queen’s Ladies-in-Waiting,” Crawfie added. “And there are Coldstream Guards patrolling, of course.”

All right, then.

“And you should know the Princess Elizabeth takes her history lessons privately with the Headmaster of Eton,” Crawfie added.

“Yes,” Maggie replied, trying to tread delicately. “I’ve heard Eton is close to Windsor Castle.”

“You know,” Crawfie said in a burst of rapid-fire words, eyes flashing, “you might think I’m just a simple, uneducated Scottish girl, but I am quite qualified to teach the Princesses, let me assure you. I was going to get my degree in child psychology, you realize. But then, you see, the King and Queen wanted someone young to be here for the children. Someone to go on long walks and have lots of energy. So …”